


Under the Same Sky

by mariposaroja



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Loosely set during 2016/2017 season, M/M, Online Dating, emre centric, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15483090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: Emre loves playing for Liverpool, he really does. But sometimes it just isn't enough.So he does the only thing he can think of and joins an anonymous dating site under an alias. Because that can't possibly go wrong, right?As it turns out, when he meets "Sven", it spectacularly can.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I definitely wasn't planning on writing a multichapter but this concept bit today and would not leave me alone so here I am... 
> 
> Hope you like! ♥

As much as he tried to convince- well- all but everyone else otherwise, Emre Can was not entirely happy in his new home. Liverpool itself was objectively wonderful; his team mates had made him feel entirely welcome and the fans had instantly feel that he was one of their own.

But that still wasn’t enough to drive out the sheer loneliness that he felt being so far away from home without his family and closest friends. Despite his icy and seemingly uncaring demeanour, Emre craved meaningful human interaction so much sometimes that it was almost crippling. Loris’ arrival, of course, had helped to alleviate that somewhat. Having another German, especially someone with whom he had instantly got along so well, around had brightened his days significantly. Even just to speak to someone in his own language felt like home, if only for a little while.

There were still, however, the evenings and nights all alone in his apartment when it hit again and again that his friendship, no matter how great, with Loris just wasn’t enough. Perhaps, it would have been fine if he could have just gone out and found himself a nice girl- or even just a girl in general- but for a footballer at his level whose interests lay largely in the same sex, that was all but impossible.

It all just seemed completely hopeless, which is probably why one night, after having more glasses of wine than he was strictly allowed, something inside Emre just snapped and he ended up creating a profile on some random dating website. It was all rather pointless, seeing as he could never actually meet up with someone being who he was, but the fact that it was theoretically possible excited him as much as it terrified him.

So that’s how he ended up being Erik, a businessman who had recently enough moved to Liverpool when his company opened a sister office and needed some of their own personnel to ensure a smooth transition. No picture was required, thankfully, as it was left up to members to decide after they had matched with someone whether they wanted to share a photo of themselves. Emre went with what was decidedly a neutral description of himself: dark hair, brown eyes, typing ‘of Turkish descent’ before deleting all that and electing to go with ‘tanned’ instead.

Then came the list of seemingly unending, mundane questions (‘do you smoke?’, ‘are you left or right leaning?’, ‘tattoos or no tattoos?’), half of which he skipped until Emre got to one that made him stop.

_‘Are you out to your friends and family?’_

To his family and closest friends? Yes. To the rest of the world? A big, fat no. And, to be perfectly honest, he doubted he ever would be. That thought was so miserable that it made him reach for the bottle of rioja once again, tipping all of what was left in the bottom into his glass.

He ticked the ‘No’ box and moved on to the next.

 

Completing his profile sent a thrum of excitement through him, especially when his ‘matches’ started coming in. It was odd, really. Without any photos, all that separated them was their alleged ‘compatibility’ and their bios but yet it felt easier to separate the definite ‘no’s from the ‘I want to know more about this guy’s without the distraction of physical appearance. Appearance was of little importance anyway, seeing as it all but certain that he would never met any of them face to face anyway.

When he received his first message, Emre had to get up and walk around for a moment before he gathered the courage to actually open it, laughing at what his team mates would say if they saw him like this.

It was from a guy called Luke, who was a newly qualified doctor in Liverpool General. Perfect, Emre thought, someone who was likely too busy to meet up anyway. Or busy enough that his schedule wouldn’t match up with Emre’s.

Luke: Hi, how are you? :)

Pausing momentarily, his fingers ghosted over the keys before he decided to just take a leap.

Erik: Good, how are you?

Luke: Better, now I’m talking to you.

_Nope. No, no, no._

If there was one thing Emre Can could not stand, it was cheesiness. Cheesiness was a deal breaker for him. So he moved onto the next, which failed miserably. And then onto the next, which was even worse, if it were even possible.

Soon, it was close to two o’clock in the morning and Emre was even more miserable than when he started, and exhausted to add to that. In fact, he was just about to abandon all hope and head to bed when one last notification stopped him.

Sven: Deutsch? ;)

Little did Emre Can know that that one little question would change everything…


	2. One of Those Nights

Emre only hesitated for a moment before answering the question about his nationality in the affirmative and in their apparent shared language. _German_ , Emre thought, this guy was _German_ ; a possibility that he hadn’t really contemplated before now.

_Sven: I’ve been hoping to come across a fellow German on here so I guess today is my lucky day. Nice to ‘meet’ you, Erik_

The urge to just cut and run again hit Emre _hard_ , but something in the back of his mind was urging to live a little, that this could potentially be interesting.

_Erik: Nice to ‘meet’ you too_

_Sven: So, how long have you been in Liverpool?_

_Erik: Just about three years now, you?_

_Sven: I basically just got here but I’m really loving it so far. Could see myself staying here indefinitely._

That was also something they had in common and, somehow, Emre found himself slowly getting to know the other man and, even more shockingly, he was actually liking what he was hearing. There was an easiness to talking with Sven that made him feel increasingly comfortable disclosing some (but not too much) information about himself, more than he thought he would ever feel comfortable sharing. So much so that it was pushing four in the morning when Emre realised just how late (or early, depending on what way you looked at it).

_Erik: As much as I don’t want to end this conversation, I just realised the time and I should probably get some sleep so I don’t end up getting a lecture at work tomorrow._

That was still likely to happen, but every little helps and all that…

_Sven: Holy fuck! I didn’t even notice! I suppose we have covered everything from the refugee crisis to which Beatle was the most iconic and it’s best not to move too fast…_

Emre couldn’t escape the bark of laughter that escaped him while reading that, shaking his head to himself and smiling to himself as he typed out his reply.

_Erik: Yeah, I think getting onto the greatest footballer of all time would be just too much of a commitment for me, I’m sorry._

_Sven: Not fair! You can’t just drop the football word and not allow me to talk to you for hours on end about it :/_

_Oh dear…_ So Sven was a football fan. That… that changed things, didn’t it? It should, since there was a high chance that the other man knew very well who _Emre_ was, if not Erik. And that was kinda weird? And scary? But…

Well, frankly, Emre found- shockingly- that he didn’t care all that much. A lot less than he probably should have, to be completely honest. What was the harm if it was just a little fun? _For now, at least…_

_Erik: Well, it sounds like this is not a conversation to be had at four o’clock in the morning. I have to warn you, I have many, many strong opinions when it comes to football._

_Sven: As do I. So we better hope that our hot takes are compatible ;)_

_Erik: I tentatively look forward to finding out_

_Sven: Okay, you’re right- I’m probably going to get a stern talking to tomorrow (or today?! :/) at work but I think it’s worth it? Night, Erik. Glad we got talking._

_Well_ , Emre thought, _at least you won’t have to spend the entire morning running around a football pitch…_

_Erik: I think it was. And I’m glad too. Really glad. Night Sven_

Deciding that he absolutely _could not_ wait for a reply in case he felt the urge to reply again, Emre made sure that the alarm on his phone was set, nearly crying when it told him he had only little over three hours to sleep, before setting it down on his bedside table and turning off the lamp.

In a rare and certainly unexpected turn of events, Emre went to sleep with a grin on his face.

 

The morning (or should he say _later on_ ) was not pleasant. Three hours was nowhere near enough for someone who faced a day of strenuous exercise and Emre almost cried as he pulled the covers above his head. What on earth had he been thinking? Had he not foreseen just how much he would suffer when seven o’clock finally rolled around?

But then Emre thought of Sven and some of his misery eased again. In fact, he actually found himself feeling almost _excited_ , which seemed to give him the strength to throw the covers off and take those first couple of awful steps in getting up.

First of what would inevitably be many cups of coffee in hand, Emre contemplated checking his notifications as he ate his thankfully mostly prepared breakfast before deciding with a scowl that that would definitely set his routine back even more than it already was. _This is what happens when you burn the candle at both ends,_ that traitorous (and definitely right) voice inside him chastised him, but Emre paid it no mind.

Once he finished eating, he returned to his bedroom, tossing his phone carelessly down on the duvet before heading to the ensuite to begin his vigorous hair routine.

 

 

“Bags under eyes, hair a mess, obviously tired yet somehow happy… someone must have had a good night.”

Despite his undeniably pleasant mood, Emre scowled at the other man, putting a little extra conviction into it when Loris’ response is to laugh right in his face. “It was a perfectly average night, thank you very much. Just stated up later than expected catching up with a friend from home.”

The blonde’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Of the female persuasion?”

 _God, Lo, you couldn’t be more wrong._ “Of the _male_ persuasion. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Warming up a little too enthusiastically for Wednesday early morning training, Loris scoffed, bringing his knee almost all the way up to his chest. “As your best friend, I believe it is my business.”

“Who says you’re my best friend?”

“You, when you cried on my shoulder at the Christmas party and told me how much you loved me. Actually, I believe “you give my life meaning, Loris” were your exact words.”

On many occasions, Emre found himself wondering how exactly someone like him even became friends with someone like Loris Karius in the first place. There was no clear answer to that. Of course, they were both German and in a different country, which in itself created a bond of sorts, but there was no logical reason for why they had gelled so well. Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corners of Emre’s mouth. “Whatever you tell yourself,” he shrugged, jogging on ahead with his usual quip of ‘Slow Loris’ that, as usual, resulted in the other man tackling him to the ground and earning them five more laps each.

A mess of tangled limbs, the midfielder accepted a hand up when Loris righted himself first, but not before hesitating when the urge to spill all his secrets there and then grabbed hold of him. Although Emre opened his mouth with the intention of speaking, words failed him.

“Is everything okay?” Loris wondered, pushing his hair back out of his eyes when his best friend was back on his feet again. For someone who liked to show very little emotionally, it never ceased to amaze Emre that Loris could still pick up on these things, even when he very much wished that he wouldn’t.

“Yeah, fine.” But it wasn’t really, was it? It felt wrong, keeping such an important part of himself hidden from someone he really cared about and who cared about him in return. Loris almost certainly wouldn’t have a problem with it, and would likely just meet the news with a shrug and a smile, but Emre still didn’t feel like he could take the chance. What if Loris wasn’t okay with it? What if he was upset that Emre kept such a massive thing from him in the first place? It was just… too uncertain. At the moment, everything was comfortable; the way the keeper hugged him without a second thought, the unguarded smiles he gave him, the way he would show up at Emre’s apartment at odd times of the day even when somethings he wished he wouldn’t…

He just… he couldn’t face rejection. Not by Loris of all people.

“Everything is fine,” he mumbled again, more for his own benefit than anything.

“You two! Get a move on or I’m going to split you up! This is not the time for an AGM.”

Making sure Klopp couldn’t see him before he rolled his eyes, Loris nudged Emre’s upper arm before reaching out and closing his hand around the other man’s wrist, tugging him forward. “Come on, sooner we get this over with the better.”

Emre followed without a second thought, not batting an eye at the fact that Loris continued to hold his hand for a lot longer than was strictly necessary.

 

“Lozza, Ems!”

There was a time when they would scowl at those nicknames, Loris admittedly more than Emre, but there was absolutely no use fighting it at this point. Adam stood by his car, damp hair drooping into his eyes slightly after his shower, Hendo a couple of feet behind him.

“What?”

“We’re going for coffee; do you want to come?”

“Naww,” Loris grinned, pushing the strap of his gear bag back up onto his shoulder when it started slipping, “We’re special.”

“Actually,” of course Hendo had to ruin it, as always, “we asked several other people and they all said no.”

Dej, who was in the process of swaggering towards his car as only he could, looked between the pairs with a shit-eating grin on his face. And that never signalled anything good. “Double date! How cute!”

Emre tensed up at the mention of the word date, before remembering that it was _Loris_ and that they were well used to the teasing at this stage. There were very few footballers who didn’t have their own _person_ in the team, someone they got along with above all others. Loris was _his_. Still, that didn’t stop him scowling at the defender.

“I wouldn’t mind grabbing a cup on the way home. Could do with the boost.”

The truth was, Emre had been eager to get home. But a cup of coffee with friends wouldn’t kill him, especially when Sven was probably still at work anyway. He almost scoffed at his own reasoning. _Really, Emre? Rushing home to speak to some random guy you met on a dating website less than twenty four hours ago?_ “Yeah, I’m in.”

“Great. Well hop in then, we’ll drop you back for your cars when we’re done instead of taking an entire fleet to Costa.”

Deciding to just roll with it, Emre popped the boot of his car and unceremoniously tossed his kit bag in, nodding when Loris wordlessly asked if he could do the same since he was parked at the opposite end of the car park. In return for his charity, the keeper flicked his wet hair in his best friend’s direction, laughing at the look on Emre’s face when a couple of drops unexpectedly hit his forehead.

“Fuck off!”

Loris grinned nevertheless, stepping out of the way so that Emre couldn’t get his revenge when closing the booth by decapitating him. Or worse. “I’m thinking of growing it long again.”

The midfielder considered himself to be quite handsome, but Loris Karius was downright _unfair_. If there was anyone who had won the genetic lottery, it was Loris with his beautiful blond hair and piercing blue eyes. “Please don’t,” he said, just for the sake of sulking, glad when the other man chuckled loudly instead of taking offence.

“Okay, I won’t then. For you.”

“Considerate as always.”

“Are you two coming or what? They’ll be closed by the time we eventually get there at this rate.”

“Yeah, yeah… we’re coming.”

Placing his hand firmly on Emre’s shoulder, Loris steered him in the direction of Llama’s car and he knew right then that he was making the right decision in keeping his sexuality a secret. Emre really didn’t want this to change.

 

 


	3. Emotionally Colourblind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update required after that wonderful match yesterday! I've been buzzing ever since I left the stadium. 
> 
> The cameras do not do Loris justice *dies*

Emre Can tried very hard to play it cool.

When he finally got home after his impromptu coffee outing with Loris and Hendollana, which- not unexpectedly- had been a very entertaining way to spend an hour, he busied himself with doing some menial tasks around the apartment that he’d been putting off. Soon enough, the dishwasher was on, his socks were paired, and the floor was hoovered, all of which were done in an attempt by Emre to convince himself that he was not as eager to get talking to Sven as he was.

Despite his general good mood after last night’s chatting, a part of Emre was concerned that he was a little too invested too quickly. It was ridiculous; they’d talked for a little while, bantered a bit and flirted a bit too, but that had been it. It wasn’t as if he’d given or been given any kind of commitment.

What worried him more, however, was the fact that this feeling, this giddiness, was very familiar and it scared him so much to think of it like that Emre buried that thought as deeply as he could. It obviously worked, because not ten minutes later his phone was in his hands again.

Erik: So, about football…

Trying his best to ignore the thrumming in his chest as he typed out that message, Emre tossed his phone done on the couch when it was sent, turning on the tv since it was unlikely that Sven would even see it until he had finished work later on anyway.

He had been around twenty minutes into an episode of Game of Thrones when a buzzing beneath him made his eyes widen and he scrambled to dig the device from where it had descended into a crack in the couch. _It’s probably not him_ , he reminded himself before he got his hopes up, _it’s probably Phil or Loris or someone._

But he was wrong.

Sven: Are you sure you want to do this? We were getting along so well ;)

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god._

Erik: I’m not entirely sure, but better to find out whether you’re cancelled or not now rather than later

Sven: I suppose that’s fair. You said you were from Frankfurt, didn’t you? I guess you support them?

Of course, it was typical for a person to support the team of the place in which they were born and raised. As a footballer, however, it was a lot more complicated that just that. Each team he had played for effectively formed a part of him now, and those parts were as inseparable from him as his own personality.

But Emre couldn’t exactly tell Sven all that.

Erik: Yeah. I started to cheer for Liverpool too since I’ve moved here though.

Sven: Me too! I mean, I’ve supported Stuttgart since I was a child but there’s something about Liverpool’s history and the passion of the fans. The atmosphere in Anfield for a big match just gives me the shivers.

Emre couldn’t help the little flip his stomach did at that, not sure whether it was a positive feeling or not. Sven had likely seen him play in the flesh, which he found quite difficult to wrap his head around.

The tv continued to sound in the background, but Emre completely ignored it. Chewing on his lip, he wracked his brains for a response to that that gave nothing away, eventually deciding on something completely neutral.

Erik: You’ve been to some matches then?

Sven: Yeah, a few. I’ll probably keep going as long as I’m living here. Which I hope will be a long time.

Sven: What about you? Have you ever been?

A peal of laughter escaped him at the innocence of that question. _Babe, I’ve seen more of Anfield than most ever will. And more often._

Erik: Once or twice. You don’t miss home then?

When a couple of minutes had passed and no reply had come to that, regret that he even asked the question in the first place flooded Emre. Standing up, he- in an uncharacteristic move- ran a hand through his hair, making a face when he felt how much product in there. _What an idiot,_ he thought, _how would you feel if someone you hardly knew started questioning you about whether or not you missed Germany when you hardly like to admit that you do to yourself?_

Beginning to think he had blown it, Emre wandered into the kitchen and began mindlessly rooting around in the fridge for something to cook for dinner in an attempt to quell the disappointment he felt. _Why are you like this, Emre?_

He had just decided on salmon and a baked potato with salad when a buzzing in his pocket caused him to jerk so hard that he whacked his forehead off an open press. Scowling, Emre rubbed what would inevitably become a bruise. With his other hand, he fished his phone out of his pocket, only stopping short of peering through one eye as he unlocked the screen.

Sven: Sorry about that! Almost set my apartment on fire by leaving a dish towel too close to the stove…

 _Thank god_.

Sven: Yeah, I do. But I have some really good friends here and I’m kept busy. Plus, in my line of work I never really expected that I would stay in my hometown anyway. Or more I realised quite early on that it was a very big possibility that I wouldn’t. I take it from that that you do?

Erik: Yeah, I do. I know I shouldn’t because I’m very fortunate to have the life that I have but it’s just…

_I was raised in a very humble part of Frankfurt by immigrant parents and sometimes I feel like I’m a million miles away from that._

Erik: I don’t know how I can spend so much time surrounded by people, some of them very good friends, and still feel lonely.

That was met with another lull and once again Emre worried that he’d ruined things with his big mouth. Nothing says casual like bearing your soul to someone who is effectively a stranger…

Once again, he was wrong.

Sven: Can I ask you a personal question that might seem completely unrelated?

 _I’m not sure_.

Erik: Yeah, fire away.

Sven: Are you out to your friends? Be it gay, bisexual, whatever?

Emre took a deep breath before answering that, Loris popping into his mind once again.

Erik: Not my friends here, no.

Sven: Do you think that that is part of the reason why you feel so lonely? I know from experience how isolating it can feel

Maybe, Emre thought, he had been expecting the other man to recoil at his personal questions because it was what he would have done. And it was exactly what he did do. Sighing, he just sat there with phone in hand for a couple of minutes before, much to his embarrassment, letting his natural tendencies take over and locking the screen once again without replying. As much as he wished it wasn’t the case, Emre just couldn’t do this right now.

God, he had the emotional intelligence of a piece of furniture. If it didn’t make his life so difficult, Emre almost certainly would have laughed.

Deciding to take a break for a while, he made his way back to the kitchen to resume his preparation of dinner. Turning on some music in the background, Emre stuck the fish and baked potato in the over and go to the most onerous bit, preparing the salad. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t a very stimulating task. Certainly not enough to keep his mind from going into overdrive. Wearily resting his arm against his forehead, Emre did the only thing he could think of.

“Siri, call Loris.”

It barely rang three times.

_“Missing me already?”_

Emre rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth. “Desperately, _Lolito_.”

When he heard his friend’s pained groan, he knew he’d won. _“I regret ever telling you that, you know._ ”

“I know, but if your friends can’t make fun of you then who can?”

_“I’m currently re-evaluating your position as ‘friend’. What’s up?”_

He thought that maybe ‘well, I am absolutely horrendous when it comes to meaningful human communication’ was a bit heavy. Shrugging even though the other man couldn’t see, continued chopping the pepper. “Nothing, just cooking dinner and it’s very boring. I thought you might be able to entertain me.”

_“Well, I’m thankful for the confidence but I’m afraid I used up all my gossip earlier on. What are you cooking?”_

“Salmon.”

_“Nice. I should probably should get moving on that too but I’ve been beached on the couch ever since I got back.”_

“Me too to be honest.” Amongst other things. “What are you having?”

 _“Pasta,”_ the disdain was evident in his voice, _“I just wish that someone would introduce a carbohydrate with the same nutritional value as pasta that isn’t pasta. I’m so bored of eating it.”_

Emre couldn’t help but laugh at that, a genuine laugh that came all the way from his belly. He’d known that calling Loris was a good idea; though Loris had more than his fair share of moods and strops, it was almost guaranteed that he could make Emre feel better, no matter what the situation. Loris was like the sun to him. “I’m sorry for your hardship, Lo. Maybe you can invest some of your millions?”

_“Fuck off, Emre. You can’t say shit.”_

Smiling, he once again found himself grateful to Jurgen for brining Loris Karius into his life.

 

Feeling a little more well adjusted once he’d finished talking to his best friend and eating, Emre took a deep breath and clicked into the previously abandoned thread of messages once again, cringing when he saw how long it had been since he’d left Sven on read.

Erik: Yeah, it is quite isolating I suppose. But I also don’t want that to change any time soon so I guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it as best I can. Maybe if I got a little bit better at talking it wouldn’t be so bad, but I kinda suck at it (I’m so sorry)

To his absolute astonishment, the other man replied instantly, not giving him the cold shoulder as he’d expected.

Sven: It’s fine not to want things to change. I can’t exactly give advice since I haven’t got any plans to tell my friends here for the foreseeable future, even though sometimes I feel like I want to. Want to make sure I’ve established myself before/if that happens.

Sven: And please don’t apologise, I’m sorry for asking a question that you didn’t want to answer. You can always just tell me to mind my own business, you know

An unexpected weight lifted off his shoulders upon learning that Sven was more or less on the same page as he was in relation to coming out. Obviously, there was no comparison between their particular situations, but it still felt reassuring that the other man was as private as he was.

Erik: It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. It’s more than I am really bad at admitting to things to myself, it’s something I’m trying to work on.

Sven: Will we just change the subject then? How was work today?

And so they did. Worked turned into music which turned into movies and then into everything and anything. Emre found himself so exhausted after the late night and day of training that he fell asleep sometime after ten with his phone on the pillow with him, waking with the print of the device on his face in the morning.

Sven: I guess you fell asleep so sweet dreams x

When Emre sleepily checked his messages in the morning, his heart did a little flutter at that and it was only then that Emre came to the startling realisation that he was well and truly fucked.

 

 


	4. A Change Is Gonna Come (Whether You Like it or Not)

Days turned into weeks, weeks into a month and then two.

Emre still hadn’t gotten tired of talking to Sven. The time went by so quickly, with matches and international break, that he barely noticed until he looked at the calendar one day and nearly choked. Sure, it was casual enough but it was still happening. And Emre realised with a start that he’d dated people for less time than he’d been talking with the other German and he’d stopped replying to any messages from other guys because it just wasn’t the same. So what did this mean?

 _Well_ , his mind supplied, _it means that you like him_.

That was undeniably true, which made the situation even more terrifying. But he was getting ahead of himself, right? Just because they had been chatting for two month didn’t mean would or had to come of it. Who even counted time so rigidly when you weren’t even properly dating? Sven, he decided, probably hadn’t even noticed.

Once again, Emre was wrong.

It had been an evening of pleasant conversation as ever, until the other man had dropped the fatal ‘s’ word.

Sven: So… There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about

Emre’s breath caught in his throat, paralysing him where he was lying on the bed. He knew it. Hands suddenly starting to shake, he barely managed to type out a reply.

Erik: Sure, go ahead

There was a lull for a couple of minutes and Emre genuinely worried that he was going into heart failure, almost having the first two ‘9’s dialled just in case.

Sven: Okay, so I’m not really sure how to say this so it’s best to just spit it out I think. I really like you, Erik. I’ve loved talking to you and getting to know you and- for me at least- it feels like we’ve just clicked

Erik: I’m the same

_This isn’t so bad, is it? Deep breaths…_

It certainly wasn’t a lie. Emre had never in a million years thought he would let someone he’d never even met into his life like this and had been very pleasantly surprised when he took the leap and did just that. But the realistic part of his mind reminded him that the guy Sven thought he liked so much didn’t actually exist at all, and that was a problem.

_But are Emre and Erik really that different? Besides the money. And the relative fame. And-_

Okay, this line of thought wasn’t helping in the slightest. Emre whinged, scrubbing his face wearily as he realised he was cornered, torn between what he wanted to do and what he thought he should do.

Sven: I’m glad to hear that because I wanted to ask if, maybe, you would consider meeting up for a date?

Sven: If you would rather keep this all online that’s fine but I just feel like there’s potential her and I know you’re a private person and whatever so there’s no pressure whatsoever

Sven: You can absolutely say no if you want

 _I can’t_ , is what Emre really should say, _I’m sorry_. But this guy… well, he’s snatched Emre’s rulebook, ripped it up and tossed the pieces out the window.

Erik: What if I’m not what you expected?

Which, to be fair, he likely wouldn’t be. Not unless, somehow, Sven really is expecting Emre Can, Liverpool FC player. It was quite alarming for Emre to find that he was as worried about the other man thinking that Emre had lied to him than he was being sold out. Emre never did handle rejection well, especially after he’d uncharacteristically opened up.

Sven: There’s a good chance that I won’t be what you expected either but does that mean we shouldn’t try? I… I’m not usually like this. At all to be honest. But for some reason I feel like I can trust you and I’m willing enough to be proven wrong if need be

Emre needed a break. Sighing, he hauled himself up off the bed and trudged down the hall and into the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water in the hope that it would steady his nerves. Not that water had ever really been known to do that, but he had to make do since he had training the following morning.

It took the better half of ten minutes spent pacing, but Emre finally came to a decision. There was so much that could potentially go wrong, one bad decision could effectively ruin his career, and yet…

Erik: You would never be proven wrong. I promise that. Sorry for the delay in replying, just had to work through some things in my head because I can’t believe I’m trusting someone I’ve never met like this but I would really like to meet you

Sven: Wow, okay. I wasn’t expecting that to be honest but that makes me so happy. If you change your mind though, please let me know. I don’t want you to feel like you have to.

 

Emre did change his mind. Many times.

But he never told Sven any of that. In fact, he changed his mind several times in the brief car journey to the designate restaurant alone, spending five minutes after he’d parked with his hands clenched around the wheel. If anyone were to look over and see him, the would surely think that he had lost the plot.

Hell, if they knew his reasons they would almost certainly think he had lost the plot.

Which, to be fair, he likely had. _Loris would kill you if he knew,_ a traitorous part of his mind reminded him for what felt like the fiftieth time today, _he would say it’s too risky_. Sven could tell anyone, or someone could recognise him and realise that the guy he was having dinner with was his date and not just a friend. He hoped the fact that they both spoke German would be enough to convince anyone that he was a friend of Emre’s from back home with whom he was just catching up.

In the end, Emre supposed it didn’t matter too much, because he really liked Sven and there was no way he would be cruel enough to stand him up after all this. And, anyway, he was beginning to question how much being a footballer meant if it also meant being alone until he finally hung up his boots. He didn’t think that Klopp was the type to sell him off to a tiny team that no one’s ever heard of just because he’s gay but that doesn’t mean another manager wouldn’t. He could only hope, if that was the case, that the general public would be outraged enough to prevent that from happening.

But he was getting _way_ ahead of himself.

 _It’s just a date, what’s the worst that could happen?_ Emre wondered as he fixed the little German flag pin that was fastened to his well-fitted black shirt as he finally stepped inside the restaurant, heart hammering against his ribs. A pin wasn’t exactly the most stylish of things, but it was discrete and easily identifiable enough to have been the best option.

Glancing briefly around, his palms become suddenly clammy, Emre didn’t know whether he was relieved or not to not spot a pin just like his own.

A pretty redhaired waitress did a double take when she spotted him, brows raising although there was no immediate look of recognition on her face. Probably knew that she knew him from somewhere but couldn’t quite place where.

“Good evening. How many?”

“Uh, two please. I’m meant to be meeting a friend but I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“That’s fine,” her deep plum lips pulled into a grin, “I’ll show you to a table and I can send him your way when he comes.”

 _When he comes_. Emre’s stomach did a little flip and he nodded mutely, trying to keep his head down as he followed her to a booth near the back of the restaurant. He found himself incredibly grateful that they’d chosen somewhere casual enough, because he didn’t think he could have waited at a table by himself in a fancy restaurant for everyone to see. As he continued to look around, he barely heard her speak over the sound of his pulse in his ears.

“Pardon?”

“I asked for your name, for when your friend comes.”

“Oh,” Emre blinked, _makes sense_ , “Erik.”

“Erik,” the hostess nodded, obviously liking the way that sounded, “Would you like anything in the meantime or would you prefer to wait?”

“I’ll wait, thanks.”

Nodding, she set two menus down on the table, urging him to let her know if he needed anything. He thanked her with a tight smile, waiting until she had gone before pulling out his phone.

Erik: I’m here just so you know. In a booth near the back.

He received no answer, but hadn’t entirely expected to given the fact that the other man was probably driving. So, though he still felt as if he would pass out at any minute with the sheer nerves, he clicked into Instagram and started mindlessly scrolling through, knowing that any moment now could be the one when Sven showed up. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but smile and roll his eyes when he saw that Loris had posted yet another selfie. Why not, Emre thought, when he had a face like he had?

Once Instagram had been exhausted, he moved onto Twitter, looking up at the door between every Tweet he read, a mixture of disappointment and relief washing over him when no one entered. A feeling of dread, however, began to settle in the pit of his stomach as the minutes went by and there was still no sign of Sven. Twenty minutes after his arrival he was worried.

Thirty minutes after he was fuming and no longer brave enough to wait around on the off-chance that he showed. Emre found himself wondering whether he had actually been given a lucky escape as he tucked his phone back into his pocket and rose from his seat. Feigning confidence that he didn’t quite possess, he walked right over to the hostess and dramatically rolled his eyes.

“My _friend_ just texted to say that he’d forgotten that we’d planned to meet, so I’m afraid your services are no longer necessary.” The words almost hurt to speak, and Emre could only hope that his expression didn’t betray how crushed he felt, how… stupid. He had to be an idiot for thinking that this was going to work.

Doe eyes widening, she looked at her watch. “Wow, you think he would have let you know that _before_ you waited half an hour for him. Are you sure that there isn’t anything I can get you?”

 _You would, wouldn’t you?_ “I’m fine, thank you. We’ll just have to reschedule for another time. And I might take my turn to be late, just in case. Thanks for your help.”

He didn’t linger on the fact the she looked very disappointed to see him go as he stalked towards his car, removing his pin with a little more aggression than was necessary and tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. Fishing his keys from the other, he had just opened the driver door when he heard something he absolutely had not been expecting.

“Emre?”

_Of all fucking times are you fucking kidding me??_

Shutting the door once again, Emre looked over the roof of the car and saw a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. “Loris, hi.”

Loris looked as shocked by this turn of events as Emre felt, but still managed the widest of smiles. “I was surprised to see your car. What are you doing here?”

 _Well_ , Emre only just managed to stop the humourless chuckle that was threatening to escape him, _how long have you got?_

 


	5. Faraway, So Close

Emre really could have spilled his guts right there, as unsuitable as the location was, but only just managed to bite his lip. Though, with all the opportunities that seemed to be put on a platter in front of him, he couldn’t help but feel that sooner or later that was bound to happen. _But not now. It can’t be now._ So he lied. “I was going to get take away but I felt very guilty and couldn’t go through with it. What about you?”

Loris rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Same, to be honest. But I’m probably still going to do it because I’m starving and could not be bothered cooking. How about I run in and grab us something and we can eat it back at mine?”

A refusal was on Emre’s tongue, but that was before he remembered that the alternative was sitting at home by himself overanalysing every single conversation that he and Sven had ever had and that prospect wasn’t at all appealing. He knew where he would much rather be. “We shouldn’t…”

“Who will know?” Loris smirked and Emre was sure that the blond could persuade even those with the strongest of will to do his bidding with just a crooked smile. “If you’re offering to cook then go right ahead.”

“I’m not. Surprise me.”

Nodding, Loris did in fact surprise him by taking a single off his keyring and tossing it right at his friend. “You can head back to mine and I’ll follow since we have two cars anyway.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he offered, glancing down at the key that had landed precisely in his palm.

“No point. Maybe stop in and get us a couple of beers on the way? In for a penny, in for a pound and all that.”

“Look at you, becoming one of the locals.”

“I just love Liverpool, you know what I mean?” the blond quipped in what was probably the worst interpretation of a Scouse accent Emre had ever heard in his life.

Scoffing, he pulled the car door open once again. “Okay, well I’m leaving now because that was pathetic.” Loris’ protest of “you know you love me” as Emre climbed in was cut off by the closing of the door and the starting of the engine. It wasn’t a lie, however, and Emre found himself wondering how Loris had developed a habit of showing up exactly when Emre needed him.

*

Catching his best friend’s car depart the car park out of the corner of his mind, Loris pressed his fist against his teeth to keep from screaming in frustration because, he loved Emre but what were the fucking odds that he would show up here tonight of all nights? He’d already been late enough as it was but now, even on the off-chance that Erik was still there, he wouldn’t be able to stay because Loris was the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet and basically sent his best friend back to his place to get him out of the way.

He walked briskly towards the restaurant, pulling off his leather jacket to reveal the small German flag that was fixed to his t-shirt to make him identifiable. Upon stepping inside the door, his hope all but completely disappeared when he saw it was sparsely populated, more women than men there and of those that were there, they were all clearly local.

“Can I help you?”

He startled, frowning as he turned to look at the petite woman. “I’m really late to meet my friend and he’s probably already gone but I wanted to check.”

Her eyebrows raised at that and she looked him up and down. “Erik, right? The hottest guy in Liverpool.”

Loris straight up spluttered. “What? Is he?”

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t have noticed,” the hostess shrugged, “Anyway he left because he said that you forgot.”

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._ “I did and I feel completely terrible so I wanted to see if I could get here before he left but obviously not.”

“Well, I’m afraid he’s gone. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Letting out the breath he hadn’t even known he had been holding, Loris ran a hand through his hair, nodding. “Yeah actually. Can I order for takeaway? I’m going to pop round his and try to salvage our friendship.”

If only he could, Loris thought.

 

*

Sven: Erik… I’m so so sorry. I got caught doing something unexpectedly and I was in such a hurry to get there that I didn’t even think of texting to let you know that I was on my way.

Sven: I know you weren’t sure about meeting me and I’m sorry that I proved you right but please don’t think that I was intentionally blowing you off.

Sven: When I got to the restaurant and that girl told me you’d already gone I knew I’d completely fucked up

Sven: I understand if that’s it for you but please know that I really wanted to be there

As he scrolled through the messages, Emre scoffed. He didn’t know whether the fact that Sven seemed to actually have an excuse made it all better or worse. Showing up at the restaurant to find he’d gone surely suggested that he had not, in fact, been blown off. But that would have made things easier. That would have been a black and white case of ‘okay, this is done’. If Emre were to believe him, however… well, that was another issue entirely.

What he needed, Emre quickly decided, was time to think.

There was nothing that could be done tonight away, even if a part of him felt that he should at least put the other man out of his misery. But he just… couldn’t. Not when Emre was so unsure of what he was feeling and how he wanted to proceed. Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he set the box of beer bottles down on the counter of Loris’ kitchen, reaching over to grab the opener that was magnetically stuck to the fridge. He was sure Loris would forgive him for getting a head start.

As it turned out, the other man wasn’t that far behind him, and Emre pulled out a couple of plates from the cupboard after buzzing him since he no longer had his keys. A minute or two later, the blond appeared with a plastic bag in hand, shooting his best friend a very grateful smile when Emre immediately exchanged it for a bottle of beer.

“What did you get?”

“I got some mezze for us to share and I got you the chicken shawarma.”

 _Good choice_. “What did you get?” Emre wondered as he rustled through the bag, nothing immediately identifiable since it was all in containers.

“Castelata.” Sure enough, the smell of the lamb hit him and Emre actually groaned. Loris, however, was having none of it. Laughing, he nudged the other man with his hip, regretting it a little bit when Emre almost knocked it all off the counter. “Don’t even think about it, Em. You asked me to surprise you.”

“But you clearly got something nicer for yourself!”

“Emre, if I got you that and got the Shawarma for myself you _still_ would be complaining that I didn’t get you that. You can’t have it both ways.”

Pouting, Emre dished out his own, grabbing a knife and fork before he made for the couch with his bottle of beer tucked precariously beneath his arm. Loris followed closely behind, angling himself towards Emre with his legs tucked beneath him when he sat.

“So what’s been going on?”

“Nothing, really,” Emre shrugged, dipping a piece of bread into some hummus.

Frowning, Loris glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye, practically able to feel the tension in his shoulders himself. “You’ve been quiet the past couple of days, are you sure everything is all right?”

 _Of course I’ve been that obvious._ “Yeah, it’s just…” heart beginning to beat that little bit quicker, Emre wondered if he was brave enough to do this. Another part of him countered that _brave_ wasn’t exactly the word to describe it, not when it wasn’t the truth. “I’ve been, well, kinda having this thing with this girl and it’s just got me up in a heap.”

“I know how that feels,” Loris snorted, “what’s bothering you about it?”

“She’s just refreshingly normal, and I don’t think she really understands who I am because I haven’t really been completely forthcoming with her about all this…” he gestured at nothing it particular, “and I don’t know if it could really work. Or if she wouldn’t be into this, or worse, she would be too into it and turn out not to be the person I thought, which is quite ironic I know.”

“Well, I guess all you can do is try, right? If you’re wrong, you’re wrong. I think it’s worse to not go for something just because you’re afraid of what might _potentially_ , not even probably, happen. If she’s given you reason so far to think that something might be up, then it’s probably fine and you’re worrying over nothing. Sometimes actually are what they seem, Em. You know?”

God, Emre would give anything to have Loris’ outlook on life. The blond rarely let anything phase him, and Emre badly envied him that. He didn’t have a tendency to overthink everything like Emre had. “But what if it’s not that simple? What if it all blows up in my face?”

Loris contemplated that as he finished chewing a piece of lamb, giving a little shrug as he washed it down with a sip of beer. “What’s the worst that can happen, really? And does it really matter? There are times when I feel the same way, but you just have to do things sometimes because life is short. What if you let someone pass you by and not know that they’re the one you’re meant to be with? What if you don’t make a move and see them years later and realise that you’ve lost so much time? I just don’t think it’s worth it and, believe me, that was a very hard realisation to come to.”

Deep down, Emre knew that Loris was right. But he wondered if the other man’s advice would be the same if he knew that it was not, in fact, a girl he had been speaking of. Would he still say that it was worth it, knowing what he stood to lose?

“You’re right, I guess.”

“’Course I am.”

“You know, I think it’s odd; you give off such a serious vibe to people who don’t know you. I don’t think the would ever guess that you were so philosophical.”

Smiling again, the blond nudged him with his elbow. “I think I kinda have to be. Sometimes it’s the only way to make sense of things. If it scares you, then you should probably do it. Fortune favours the brave, and all that.”

Emre hummed in response to that, returning to his food. No more was said on the matter, and for that he was grateful. Loris seemed to know that they’d both said what they had to, so they could move on. And so they did. Once they’d finished eating, the blond turned on the tv and found a movie for them to watch, shoes kicked off as they lounged in their post-feast comas, only taking it in turns to haul themselves up to grab another round of beers or head to the bathroom.

Sometime after the Joker had blown up Gotham General on screen, Emre realised that the other man had fallen asleep. Grateful that Loris’ couch was almost absurdly comfortable, he switched off the tv and opened the button of his jeans for extra comfort, just stopping to type out a quick message before lying back and letting sleep take him too.

Erik: I understand. Think I just need a little bit of time to make sense of things in my own head though. I’ll text you soon

 


	6. Knowing Me, Knowing You

Emre woke with a start upon feeling a hand land on him, groggily opening his eyes to see a mop of a blond head in front of him. “Wasgonon.”

Frowning at that, Loris rubbed at his eyes. “If you said what I think you said,” yawn, “then we fell asleep on the couch. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

It took a minute for Emre to compute what was happening. Loris was inviting him into his bed. Loris, who had no idea that Emre was gay, wanted them to sleep together. Well, not exactly _sleep_ together but close enough for the midfielder to completely freak out about it.

Sensing the other man’s hesitation, Loris rolled his eyes. “Stay out here if you want but I’m getting into my nice, comfy bed with or without you.”

Before he could overthink it too much, Emre stretched out his hand for Loris to help him up, which he did with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, even if they had serious bags beneath them. Allowing Loris to lead him, half asleep, through the darkness of the other man’s apartment, he was glad that before too long he could collapse on Loris’ admittedly very comfortable bed. Not another word was uttered between them, sleep reclaiming Emre first and the keeper soon after.

Everything was fine.

 

Training was long finished by the time Emre checked to see if he had a received a reply to his message. Still damp and bare-chested from his shower, he lay down on the bed and reached for his previously discarded phone, feeling collected and mellowed enough to seriously ponder whether or not he should just let it go.

After some serious thought, it turned out that he couldn’t even if he wanted to. So Emre clicked into the thread, running his fingers through his hair as he waited.

Sven: Take all the time you need. I know it might not change anything but I really am deeply sorry. I never meant to toy with your feelings

Truthfully, Sven’s tardiness terrified Emre because it really made him wonder if the other man was who he said he was. What if he was being trolled and ended up getting hurt?

But equally scary was the corollary:

What if he wasn’t?

It was becoming clear to Emre that he could only go back and forth for so long; eventually, he would have to make a decision and stick to it either way, because all this flip-flopping of doubt was torture. If he continued to speak to Sven, he knew where it was ultimately going to lead. They would, if everything went as expected, eventually have their date. So Emre needed to decide whether or not he was all in for that.

It turned out that he was.

It took little under half an hour for him to finally make up his mind, accepting all the fear that went with it. This was it, whatever happened now would happen and, well, Emre would let it. For better or for worse, and he really prayed it was for better, he would have his answer in the not too distant future.

Erik: Can you promise me that you were just late and that it wasn’t anything else?

To his surprise, a response came almost instantly.

Sven: I did a lot of thinking and rethinking before then. But I can promise you that I broke every speed limit in Liverpool because I wanted to meet you. I still want to but that bit is up to you

Emre closed his eyes briefly, phone feeling heavy in his hands as he took a deep breath.

Erik: Okay. I still want that too but we’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’ll be out of Liverpool for a little while so it will have to be after that

Sven: I don’t mind waiting. It will be worth every second

Erik: I’m glad to hear that. I want things to go back to the way they were. Before bad timing and everything.

Sven: I can do that

Sven: Do you like dogs?

 _Well,_ Emre blinked, _that’s certainly a 180…_ For some reason, he laughed at that, feeling reassured that nothing had really changed. One simple, and out of the blue, question made his chest feel instantly lighter and if Emre hadn’t known before that the other man had an uncanny ability to know the right things to say to him, he certainly did now.

Erik: Yeah I like dogs. Why?

Sven: I’m thinking of getting a dog. I’ve had them back in Germany and I kinda miss it now. They’re good company

Erik: Or you could just get yourself a boyfriend? Less commitment ;)

It wasn’t until Sven’s reply came that Emre realised that he was the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet.

Sven: Ha… well I’m working on that but maybe you’re right. Should probably wait a little while longer and see how things play out here first

Sven: Here being Liverpool

Erik: Right, yeah I should have thought about that one before I sent it to be honest ;) But that sounds wise. Feel free once you know for sure that this is where you want to stay.

His response to that knocked the breath out of Emre’s lungs.

Sven: Honestly? At the moment I can’t picture myself being anywhere else than here but I will delay for a while

Well, that was certainly food for thought. Rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, he frowned as he thought of it all for the first time. If Emre were to ask himself, truthfully, whether he could see himself anywhere other than where he was at the moment, his answer would have to be ‘yes’. But that was a huge ‘what if?’ and, to be frank, he was very open to the possibility of that changing in the very near future.

 

They drew, one-all, away to City that weekend. Which wasn’t the worst result they could have achieved but frustrating when they had taken the lead. Still, Loris clapped him on the back afterwards and assured him that any points they could take away from their rival was vital. It helped somewhat, but disappointment still niggled at him.

Emre was barely back in Liverpool when he had to fly out for international duty, which was always a bit odd but wonderful all the same.  It was always the highest honour to be called up to your national team, and gave him an extra burst of energy and motivation off the back of the trip to Manchester.

This time, their destination was Azerbaijan for the first World Cup Qualifier of 2017. So far, Germany was undefeated in its group, having thus far put sixteen unanswered goals away against four different teams, eight of which had come from the match against San Marino alone. Emre was determined that that streak would continue as long as he had a say.

As always with international duty, rooms were allocated randomly and so Emre found himself sharing with Jonas, which he didn’t mind in the least. The Köln defender was universally liked, and for good reason. Nothing was a drama with Jonas, he just got on with things, which was helpful when Emre himself tended to get a little riled up sometimes. Nor did he chatter unnecessarily, seeming to have this uncanny ability to know when people would just rather be left alone. _Emotional intelligence_ , Emre had read somewhere that it was called. It wasn’t something he himself possessed, which made it interesting to behold. Loris certainly didn’t have it.

(Sven definitely did.)

They ended up winning the match 3-1, which puts them in a very healthy position for qualification already at an early stage. The bus ride back to the hotel was loud and boisterous, and Emre spent the short ride texting Loris, who was quick to congratulate him on the win. He waved it off, since he hadn’t actually been involved but the keeper insisted he fulfilled the very important role of looking good on the bench.

_‘Blue Steel on point.’_

Emre rolled his eyes at that, crouched as he stepped out into the aisle to join to queue to exit the bus. By the time they were all off and inside, it felt a lot later that it actually was. A light dinner was ready and waiting for them and he wasted no time in scoffing it all down in a way that Drax would have been proud of. Having eaten his fill, he wished the other a good night before heading up to his room to talk to Lo and Sven before bed.

He texted the latter before Facetiming the former, an extreme close-up of Loris’ grin the first thing he saw once the connection was made.

_“Em-re!”_

“Lolito,” he chuckled, “Are you drunk?” From what he could see, the other man was beached on the couch. Not that Emre could blame him, Loris had probably seen more action than Emre had today and his bed looked very appealing right now.

_“Nope. Just haven’t move from here since the match finished. You home alone?”_

Nodding, he sank down onto the bed and kicked off his shoes. “For now. Jo will probably be back up soon. And it will definitely be an early night, our flight is at 10 tomorrow.”

 _“What,”_ the blond scoffed, _“You mean you’re not going to party hard with Mr Frappa-cappuccino Germany?”_

 _Ouch._ Rolling his eyes at that, Emre couldn’t help but smirk. “Don’t be mean, Loris. We all know that you’re just jealous that I’m here with Jonas and not you.”

“Actually, _I’m jealous because nobody should be able to pull off glasses that well. It’s not fair on the rest of us.”_

A bark of laughter escaped him at that, and Emre didn’t doubt for one second that his best friend was telling the truth. Suddenly, something in his chest ached for Loris’ presence, which was completely illogical seeing as they would see each other in a day’s time at the very most. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

_“I don’t care. I’ll say it to his ruggedly handsome face.”_

Of course, at that exact moment Jonas decided to return and Emre nearly fell off the bed laughing, much to the confusion of the defender. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll save you the bother,” he smirked at Loris before turning to his roommate, “Loris says that you’ve got a ruggedly handsome face and that it’s not fair that you can pull off glasses so well.”

“Oh,” Jonas blinked, somewhere between being highly amused and utterly perplexed, “it’s all about finding the frame shape and colour that suit you.”

“See, Lo? There’s hope for you yet.”

_“Piss off, Em. Go get some sleep and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”_

“Absolutely. Night.”

_“Night, Em. Safe travels. You too, Jonas.”_

The Köln player returned the sentiments and Emre ended the call, giving a little stretch. “Sorry about that.”

Smiling as he shook his head to himself, Jonas waved that off. “It’s fine. Sounds like you two have a really good friendship. That’s great when you’re in a different country.”

And the smile dropped from his face ever so slightly. “Yeah. It’s only been a couple of months and I already know him inside-out. I’m sure he thinks he does too.”

“Thinks?”

Heart beginning to race, he gave a little shrug, unable to understand where all this was coming from. _Stop talking, Emre_. But he didn’t. “It’s not his fault, he knows as much as I let him. Which is most things…” At that point, he was speaking more to himself than to the other man, slightly taken about when, after a moment of hesitation, Jonas asked if he was all right, brow furrowed.

“Yeah. I just… keep wondering whether you can have a meaningful relationship with someone when they don’t know that you’re hiding a major part of yourself. Is everything then built on a lie?”

Jonas sat down for that one, looking more worried than uncomfortable with the conversation. _Emotional Intelligence_. “Well, I suppose it depends on what it is. And the reasons for keeping it to yourself.”

“I’m gay.” 

The words spilled out of his mouth before Emre could help them, and if it weren’t for the severity of the situation he would have laughed at how he somehow ended up using Jonas Hector as his therapist. But there was no backtracking from it now, and Emre couldn’t believe how instantly liberating it felt to finally open up to one of his team mates about who he really was. Especially since, Jonas, bless, him though evidently surprised barely batted an eye.

“And you’re afraid to tell Loris? Why? Do you think he’ll have a problem with it?”

“Honestly? I don’t. But I’m terrified that he’ll be angry that I didn’t tell him or… We’re close,” he explained, thought it was probably unnecessary, “just the other day we slept in the same bed and I don’t want-“

“Him to start seeing things that aren’t there. I get it. I don’t think you can ever really know, you just have to take the chance and hope for the best. What’s worse? The _possibility_ that things might change or the certainty that you’re not going to be able to completely be yourself while this is still hanging over you? Only you can decide that. And on the first point… if he holds your not telling him against you he’s just being selfish and he’ll get over it. Coming out is not something you owe anyone, no matter how close you are.”

Emre knew that he was right. Something had to give at some point, one way or another. And as terrifying as it was to think of Loris potentially brushing him off, the excitement that he might be able to finally be himself was equally as powerful, to not have to hide anymore. “You’re right.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Loris… well, Loris doesn’t exactly scream _‘homophobe’_ to me,” _on the contrary…_ “Have you told many people?”

“Besides my family and close friends back home, just you. Although I really hadn’t planned it, it just kinda came out like word vomit.”

Feeling incredibly humbled, Jonas beamed. “Well, I’m glad you let like you could trust me enough to use me as your guinea pig. You know I wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone. But can I just say something? You know a team is as good as family, we all have special bonds with each other. I’m not saying announce it to the world, but maybe having a couple of people who you can talk to and who would fight your corner would be a good thing? Think about it.”

Nodding at that, Emre said no more on the matter. It would be something to consider, at some point. But all he could think of now was that he’d basically decided to come out to Loris and, well, Emre was kinda freaking out.


End file.
